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me
you’ll have to deal with one day, you pompous crook, but the people’
‘just once, you fraud, look at what’s staring you in the face, even if it is
at odds with your folklore, even if your ears aren’t made for such dissonant
tones: the people will never take power!’ ‘village idiot! … he’s
really having convulsions now, who knows what else will come of this fit …’
‘the people will never take power! so it won’t be them I have to deal with
one day; hurt and humiliated, the people are only, and always will be, a ruled mass
that, by the way, says stupid things which you exalt, without realizing that in general
the people say and think what the powers-that-be allow; they actually speak for
themselves when they speak (as I do) with the body, which doesn’t help much,
because their identity never blends with their supposed representatives’ identity,
and because the shitty strong arm of authority is necessarily the basis of all
“order”, a rather shrewd word, as it happens, that simultaneously
incorporates an unbearably commanding voice and a presumption of where things should be;
of course the people can reap some benefits, but always only as the mass that emerging
leaders manipulate; so, forward, fraud, forward – with the people in your mouth,
parroting their simple if picturesque speech, stuffing your mimicry down the throats of
the already suffocating sheep, just like the impassive ventriloquist who puts the little
ones on his knee like a good father, and even uses his art to reveal some tricks, while
still tricking them by concealing his own voice; but don’t worry, fraud,
you’ll get there … riding, naturally, your usurped revolt, riding your
second-hand revolt; but as for this crook, this lost son here, I’ve just got one
thing to say: nobody guides the one whom God has led astray! which is why I accept
neither this pigsty we’ve got nor any other “order”that might be established, so listen –’ I said reaching the zenith of my
liturgy and, thinking of the supposed ascent of my words, I lowered my tone dirtily to
compensate: ‘I’ve got balls, fraud, I don’t need a higher
power!’ ‘hosannah! behold the man! Narcissus! always remote and fragile,
anarchy’s offspring! … ha ha hah! … he’s dogmatic, a caricature
and depraved … ha ha hah!’ ‘get this, fraud, all “order”
privileges some people and things’ ‘get this, you crook, disorder does too
– it privileges brute force, for starters’ ‘plain brute force, without
any legitimizing law’ ‘I’m talking of the law of the jungle’
‘which doesn’t put on a show of modesty, doesn’t allow space for
hypocrisy, and doesn’t unjustly call on aseptic reason as a crutch’
‘so put on a loincloth, or do without one, gorilla-boy’ ‘I’ll do
without your advice, you stay there, in your circle of light, and leave me here, in my
thick darkness, I didn’t start wallowing in this blackness yesterday; I
haven’t cultivated a seraphic paleness, I don’t lend my eyes a pious look,
nor do I ever put a saintly mask on my face, nor nourish the hope of seeing my image
enthroned on an altar; unlike good Samaritans I don’t love my neighbour, nor know
who that would be, to be short about my preferences: I don’t like people; after
all, fraud, someone has to – and now I’ll use your magic little word –
“assume” the role of the story’s shadowy villain, someone has to
assume it at the very least so you can keep your bright halo hovering above the back of
your head; so I’ll take on all evil, since the divine is as much in evil as it is
in holiness; and then, fraud, if I can’t be loved, I’ll be most content to
be hated’ ‘with reason out of reach, he now ridiculously resuscitates
himself as Lucifer … ha ha hah … sound and fury … ha ha hah …
you’re nothing more than a by-product of hidden passions, and all this mumbo-jumbo
that you go into such detail about, only serves, by the way, to